


Of Madness and Truth

by scarletrebel



Series: Kindred Light [8]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 16:19:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13103952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletrebel/pseuds/scarletrebel
Summary: When Oryx fell, a mistake was nearly made. After chasing down Osiris, Avia wants to know if the Dark Future could tell her what that mistake might have costed. Even if she knows it'll kill her to see it.





	Of Madness and Truth

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally just my love of power struggles between two characters + mine and mrpinstripesuit's love of angst + the existence of the Dark Future = the most sad thing i've ever written. Enjoy!

_By nature or circumstance they go to battle against the Darkness, and through this battle they learn how to use the Light. But Warlocks, by their nature, fight a second, internal war. This is the war to understand a universe of secrets— a world that expects Guardians to fight without full knowledge of what they are or what they might hope to achieve._

_When debate became argument, and argument became acrimony, I realized you had already become a cult of personality, attracting Guardians who wanted a clear idea of why they were fighting, what they faced, and how they would ultimately win._

_Perhaps what drives Warlocks to madness is truth._

* * *

When she first stepped through the present simulation of the Infinite Forest, Avia felt no different.

She contemplates what she feels now as she waits for Osiris, her legs tucked up beneath her on a stone pillar, the slight shifts in the Cabal’s behaviour as they fight the Vex, never ending. She can see the differences now, can feel them even, that this timeline isn’t hers. Carver has tried, and failed, to explain the paracausality of their Light to her on many occasions. As far as she cares, the Vex can’t predict her, and that’s all that matters.

She didn’t exactly want to meet here. However, in spite of the hatred her and Brother Vance share for each other, she knows the acolyte is keeping a close eye on her. Especially ever since herself, Grier and Carver killed Panoptes. She knows Osiris won’t thank her for sparing him from his number one fan, but that doesn’t deter her.

The pillar she’s chosen has sunk low enough into the sand that she notices the Vex gate shift, the signalling of someone coming through. When Osiris materialises, it’s with a swagger in his step and Sagira at his side.

“Avia!” The Ghost exclaims as Avia hops off of the pillar, walking over to them. “How’s my second favourite Guardian?

“Oh shush you,” Avia replies with mirth. “Levi can still hear you, you know. I had to bribe them to stay quiet.”

“Oh, well how nice of them.” Sagira says, and Osiris tuts at the exchange.

“There was something you wished to discuss?”

“Yes.”

“Something important, something none of my reflections could answer for you?”

“No. Well – yes, I mean – ah, you know what I mean.” She stutters, sighing, trying to find the right words.

Sagira senses her hesitation. “Is everything alright? Grier and Carver still in one piece?”

“Ha, yeah, they’re fine, it’s just…” Avia trails off, screwing her eyes shut, trying to collect herself. “I think, maybe, their curiosity might have rubbed off on me. But, not in a good way,” – a bitter laugh – “Definitely, not in a good way.”

Osiris and Sagira share a look.

“Speak your mind.” The Warlock says, pulling the bandana across his mouth down.

“You know when, you get this idea in your head and it just – it just won’t go away. And – and you know it’s a bad one, and you know that the answer will only hurt you. You’ll gain nothing from it and yet – yet you still try to justify it, giving yourself a reason for wanting to know but at the end of the day you have to just… Just admit to yourself that you – that you’re nothing more than –”

“Curious?” Osiris and Sagira finish for her.

She laughs at that, hollow. “Yeah, that.”

A pause, and then Avia continues. “How much… do you know, about the Raid on Oryx?”

Osiris crosses his arms, regards her wearily. “Enough.”

“Enough to know that..?” She pauses, swallows. Then she jabs a finger at Osiris and anger fills her voice. “You tell _no one_. Not Ikora, not any of the Vanguard. _No one_. You understand?”

Osiris nods, but immediately senses that that’s not enough. “I understand,” he speaks, strong and sure. Avia sighs, collects her thoughts once again.

“You know that Toland was lying to us, lying to Grier. But do you know why?”

“Osiris,” Sagira says, soft. “Put her out of her misery, please.”

Avia’s insides curl at the statement, but she says nothing.

Osiris sighs heavily, crossing his arms. “He felt that… Grier would take up Oryx’s mantle as Taken King. He tried to manipulate him into believing the same, that there was no other choice. All in order to complete the sword logic that he so desperately devoted – devotes, himself to.”

“In the Dark future… In any timeline, is there, have the Vex predicted–”

“Oh, Avia,” Sagira starts, but the Hunter cuts her off.

“ _No_ , I don’t want you to pity me. It’s not like that, I just…”

“I know what you mean,” Osiris’s voice is soft, to which Sagira swivels herself, confused. “There’s no need to explain.”

Avia nods her head. “Is there one? Where he’s… Where Toland succeeded?”

Cabal and Vex rage their simulated war along the sandy dunes of the generated Mercury a ways from them. Their fighting fills the air, the portal behind them breathes energy in waves as time, in a manner of speaking, seems to slow.

“Yes.”

Avia expected that.

“Can you show me it?”

“No!” Sagira cries. Avia expected that, too. “We’re not going to show you that!”

“What would you seek to learn from it?” Osiris asks. “Surely it would only cause you pain.”

“Ikora says pain is an excellent teacher. She also told me who she learnt _that_ from.”

Osiris chuckles as his Ghost whirls her shell indignantly.

“Avia, that’s not something you need to see,” she insists. “It’s called the _Dark Future_ for a reason, there’s nothing to be gained from going there! Tell her, Osiris!”

“Sagira,” the Warlock clutches his fists, pulls them into himself. “She’s made up her mind.”

Osiris’s form shifts, his golden spectre breaks away from its host and floats towards her as the portal behind him opens once again.

“This one will take you to the timeline you seek.”

“Osiris!” Sagira chastises, looking between the two. She tries to fly towards Avia, but Osiris grabs her before she can get any further.

“Sagira. Allow her the chance to find out for herself, first.”

The Ghost huffs. “It’s – it’s not what it seems, Avia. Just remember that.”

Sagira disappears, and Osiris crosses his arms, his Reflection outstretching one towards the portal.

“Thank you,” Avia says as she passes the real Osiris, and follows his Reflection.

Osiris pulls his bandana back over his face and whispers. “Don’t thank me yet.”

* * *

The Reflection was no help as they traversed the Forest. She tried to ask it questions about the Dark Future, trying to figure out a clearer picture of what she should expect. But, for the most part, it kept its mouth shut. However when it did talk, she appreciated the distraction. Avia didn’t exactly want to think about the implications of Sagira warning her that the timeline ‘wouldn’t be what it seems’. That just made things more complicated. She knows she’s in for a rough time, without the Ghost’s reminder.

However, the statement did confirm a suspicion. Osiris has seen this timeline. It makes sense to Avia, after wanting to speak to Grier about Toland she had a feeling that the Warlock had explored every future version after the Raid. It’s what she would have done; checked all the branches against Grier’s story. Not for the sake of truth, but for the sake of knowing.

When they come to the gate to the Dark Future, massive and imposing and a million galaxies trapped behind it, the Reflection stops her.

“You won’t see me, but I will be with you. Stay out of sight, and let me know when you want to leave.”

“How do I do that?” Avia asks.

It steps aside, waving a hand towards the gate. “Just ask.”

She rolls her eyes under her helmet, but steps towards the gate, hearing the faint shimmer of the Reflection disappearing.

There’s no preamble. No corridor, no Vex structures laden with technology far beyond her comprehension. One second she’s in the Infinite Forest of Mercury, and the next, she’s on the Dreadnaught.

The only light is a soft green glow that permeates the room. She doesn’t recognize this place. It’s not Golgoroth’s lair, the Court, or even where they defeated Oryx. Some plinths will give her the cover that the Reflection advised she take, unapologetically Hive, sharp and rotten. The light, the green glow the room is bathed in comes from all around, she realises. The source is easy enough to determine – the runes on the wall. They’re almost, breathing. Glowing softly, brighter, then dimmer.

She walks up to one of the walls and gently, places a hand on them. They seem recent. She scratches a nail along the lines of one, following the curve around an incomplete circle. They were carved by hand, one that shook with a hurried decisiveness.

As she scratches again, retracing the line, she hears something. Or at least, she swears she does.

Screaming. Muffled, but there. Feminine, panicked, confused, angry. It’s saying a name, over and over.

Small footfalls make her turn and wedge herself between a plinth and the wall. It’s enough of a squeeze for her to maneuver her body around the plinth still, to get a good look at who arrives. When she sees him, her heart sinks past her feet and into the unknown substance of the floor.

Grier’s face is sunk in; gaunt. The pearly white of his skin has transformed into something sickly. He mutters under his breath, his hands shaking by his sides. His eyes are what take Avia aback the most. As green as the glow of the room, wrapped around each orb and even the one just above his eyebrows. A third eye, small, protruding. It hasn’t quite – grown, is the adjective Avia’s mind supplies. He looks like Eris. Minus the cowl, or the seeping Darkness – no, if anything the Darkness follows him, clinging to him like a needy servant.

Avia starts to shake. She reaches up to grab onto one of the jagged edges of the plinth as he walks past her, more into the middle of the room. When she pulls herself to the other side, she’s confused at the mass that she sees on his back. Brown, black, molten. Then her eyes adjust and her brain catches up; wings. Monstrous wings. He shakes them, and she has a good view of his entire body, face, _wings_. All of it. He looks like Eris, has all the atmosphere of Oryx.

“Avia.”

And the voice of a young Toland.

Her blood runs cold. She doesn’t have time to wonder how on Earth she could have been spotted before Grier lifts a hand, a ball of Darkness, Taken energy, _something_ , forming on his palm.

“Stop _screaming!_ ”

A small explosion, like a muted grenade being detonated. Grier isn’t fazed, as the ball expands into sharp jagged pieces once, twice, and on the third starts to form into something humanoid. A head forms, then two arms, all black and white and shimmery. Two legs slowly protrude, and when the transformation is complete, Avia sees herself from two years ago snarl and take Grier by the throat.

“Then _let me out!_ ”

Silver plated Ahamkara grasps, one hand wrapped around his neck, the other dangling, still Taken as the rest of her bleeds into a washed out colour of her former self. Grier barely flinches, his face an unimpressed sneer. And all the ‘present’ Avia can do is watch in abject horror.

The ‘future’ Avia has some height on Grier, floating but still seemingly tethered to wherever she is. She uses that; bears down on the other Awoken (if you could still call him that) as if the added pressure will make a difference.

“Let me out of here right now Grier, or I swear on the Traveler I’ll–”

“You’ll what?” Grier challenges. “You can’t do _anything_ to me, not now.”

Avia snarls again. “Then why?” She sneers back. “Why am I still here?”

“Because you killed the other person occupying that space,” Grier calmly explains.

“No, don’t give me that. That’s not,” her head falls, struggling. “That’s not how this works. We both – _light above_ – we both know that.”

“Oh?” Grier smirks, and it looks so foreign on his face. “I’m _surprised_ that you know how it works.”

“I don’t have a choice!” Avia yells, letting go of Grier in favour of clutching her head. “There’s – there’s so much, it, it, I can’t, I can’t–”

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes – no,” Avia retches. “The singing,” she spits. “All she does is sing and _sing_ and I can’t take it anymore!”

“Who?” Grier asks, sharp. “Who sings, Avia?”

Avia’s mouth opens around a name, but then she stops, and lets out a dry laugh. She drops her hands and pulls her head up to look at Grier. “Oh. Oh, are you telling me you don’t know?”

“It’s nor Ir Yut,” Grier ruffles, but shakes himself and addresses her with all the manner of a teacher dealing with an uncooperative student. “She’s gone. It’s not his daughters either, and no ordinary Deathsinger on account of how far it stretches across the system. I have my suspicions but _you_ , are the only one who knows.”

Avia pierces him with her eyes, unrelenting and patronising.

“You know,” she says. “You know who it is.”

Grier’s mouth turns down, and he walks away from her, his face tilted in thought, muttering to himself. Avia continues.

“We both know that the sword logic demands a pinnacle. That if you’re not strong enough you’ll be – cut down. Grier, you’ll have to fight her, and you know you won’t come out alive.”

“Shut up,” Grier warns.

“You know you’ve made a mistake,” she says, and then goes on in as soft a voice as she can muster. “But it’s not too late. You’ll die if you face her Grier. Just let me out, please, and we can fix you.”

“There’s no going back for me now. We both know that.” He mocks.

“Don’t say that,” her voice breaks, suddenly reverberating around them. He ignores her as she goes on. “There’s still time, Grier.”

He laughs. It’s patronising and awful, a sound that shouldn’t be coming from him and yet is.

“How long do you think it’s been, Avia?” He asks as he turns around, smiling.

“What do you mean?”

“I guess I’ll have to explain it to you, like usual,” Grier says. “Since we killed Oryx? Three years. Since you snuck into my throne world and tried to kill me? Two and a half years. Since you killed Toland and trapped yourself in the Hive Overworld? Two years.”

“I didn’t – I never tried to kill you, Grier! That was Toland lying to you, again!” Avia yells. And then she blinks rapidly, somewhere in the middle of them her eyes turn a solid black, just for a moment, and return to normal. “Wait – Two years?

“Yes.”

“I’ve – I’ve been here, for two years.” The quiet statement rings louder than it should do, making the atmosphere quake once again. “I – I haven’t, why am I – no. No, you’re lying, just like Toland did.”

“Maybe,” Grier replies, his face impassive. “Maybe you really have been here two years. Maybe, no one’s come to save you. Maybe after you ran off to try and kill me the first time everyone realised what a burden you can be.”

The present Avia’s heart turns to ice at that statement. Her Grier would never say that.

The future Avia stares at Grier, her eyes hollow. Her lip trembles. “No, no that’s not true. You’re _lying_.”

“Maybe,” Grier repeats. “If I am lying, then, why hasn’t anyone come to save you?”

“Because–” but Avia’s quick retort dies on her tongue. She scrunches her face up, gears turning in her head until a realisation flashes across her features and she points at Grier, accusatory. “You – you better not have hurt anyone.” A pause. Avia’s resolve shakes. “Grier!”

“I guess you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He replies, stoic.

“Told me what?” She says, her voice tilting into begging and the present Avia hates the way it sounds.

“What happened to them. Our Clan.”

“You didn’t – they didn’t–”

“If you’re right, if I’m a liar just like Toland was, then even if I told you how they all died on my doorstep, you wouldn’t even think I was telling the truth.” A tilt of his head, the white matted fringe dangles slightly, helplessly. “Would you?”

“I, I wouldn’t – no!” Avia yells, and the room shakes once more. Grier takes stock of it this time, his face twisting in amused curiosity as she rages on. “I know what this is Grier. You think I wouldn’t recognise an interrogation?!”

“Who sings, Avia?”

She thins her lips. Over the course of the argument, her form has lowered, now she’s floating level with Grier. “Go to hell.”

“Fine. Have it your way, then, if you really want to know why you’re still here I’ll tell you.” Grier lips curl into a sneer as he begins. “I guess in the beginning they must not have found me a threat. After you killed Toland is when they finally got it into their stupid little heads. But still, I guess the idiots didn’t think to take on my throne world together. No, instead, they came here, and died, one by one.” A hollow laugh. Avia’s eyes have widened, her mouth agape.

“Well, in a manner of speaking. And you lead the first ones right here. Avia, if I told you that Carver found your footsteps and followed them right to me, would you believe me?”

“No,” Avia grips her head again.

“Or even if I said that he had Cornelia with him. And their daughter –so young, to be traversing a throne world of all places. Far too dangerous.”

“Stop it,” it’s a weak warning. One Grier ignores.

“They fought valiantly, the Eos family. I think when Carver heard your cries is when he made his last mistake. His wife and child probably couldn’t find him after you lead him to his death, and then they suffered the same fate.”

“I said _stop it!_ ”

“Is this what you want?” Grier outstretches his hands. “More lies?”

“No!”

“Then tell me. Who sings, Avia? Who’s coming?”

She looks up at him now, her form having sunk to the ground. From on her knees, she shakes her head in defiance.

“So be it,” Grier says, his wings outstretching, patience wearing thin. “Maybe it was your Titan then, hmm? Eden. Maybe she was so distraught that you flung yourself so carelessly into danger yet again that she had to hunt you down. Maybe I didn’t even know she was dead before she crossed the threshold.”

“Stop!”

“Or Scarlet. Oh, she might have made it so far. Might have understood the sword logic, might have anticipated every puzzle, every obstacle in her way. She might have made it farther than those before her, before making a simple mistake. You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

“Grier, _please–!_ ”

He goes on, undeterred.

“Or maybe, and, well, I could just be lying to you. But, your precious Rook.” Then he laughs, and the sound is so disjointed, so otherworldly. “You know, there was always a part of me that knew you loved him more. I guess you never got to tell him that, did you?”

Avia stills, deathly, her face hidden by the hair that’s fallen in front of it.

“I’m sure he would’ve risked everything to get you back. To save you from me. He probably had such a great time telling everyone how he was right about me, that I’d get everyone killed!” As if forgetting his train of thought, Grier shakes himself. “He made it the farthest. Fought like hell to get here, died countless times when he had the Light. But he just kept going. Didn’t know how to give up. When he heard you, I was waiting for him. And you know what? In the end, I didn’t actually enjoy killing him.”

Grier leans down, and Avia senses his presence, her eyes blackened as she looks up at him.

“He made it far too easy.”

The room shakes, pieces of debris start to fall from the ceiling. It catches Grier’s attention long enough for Avia to reach up and strangle him, both hands this time, her face contorted and a scream piercing the air.

Grier loses the battle, toppling onto his back, his closed in wings take the brunt of the fall but he still flails as Avia screams, high pitched and unrelenting.

She sounds like a Deathsinger. The present Avia can feel tears flowing freely down her face.

“ _Did you kill him?!_ ” The future Avia screams. “ _Did you kill them, Grier?!_ ”

“ _Who sings?!_ ” Grier yells back, holding her wrists. “ _Tell me!_ Who sings?!”

“I _loved_ him! I loved _all of them!_ ”

A pulse of energy sends her flying back to where she was, but this time her form shakes as if being held there. Grier sits up, and rises to his feet slowly.

“Don’t you understand? No one is coming for you. No one can save you, or me. We’re both doomed.”

Avia’s blackened eyes blink rapidly, tears forming around them.

“It’s always been us, Avia.” Grier says, sickeningly sweet. “It’s _just_ us, now. You and me.”

“Did you – did you kill them?” She asks, slowly, as if it hurts to do so. “Please. Don’t lie to me, just, tell me if they’re gone. _Please_.”

There’s the briefest of flashes, where the façade might crumble, where the act might end. But Grier’s resolve hardens, his face shifting, impassive.

“They’re gone.”

The sigils carved into the room pulsate sickeningly, and Avia cries out in aguish.

“We have no one now. Just each other. And if – if I die, so do you.”

“You’re j-just as scared as I am,” Avia stutters, her voice laced with agony. “And when she comes, you won’t be ready.”

Grier regards Avia carefully. They stare at each other, for the first time, without a trace of love or fondness in their eyes.

“I bet you regret killing the old man now, don’t you?”

Avia laughs wetly. Its course and bitter, and she takes a deep breath before speaking.

“No. But, I regret not killing you.”

Grier lifts his hand again, the darkness forming on his palm and the future Avia starts to howl in pain.

“G-get me out of here,” the present Avia stutters. “Now, please, please get me out of here, now!”

A shimmer of gold presses down on her shoulder, and she turns to all but run back through the portal, her own screams echoing in her ears.

* * *

“I am so mad at you right now,” Sagira says for the seventh time. “You’re going to give that poor girl the fright of her life.”

Osiris peers still down the lens of his scope, monitoring the simulation before him. Present Mercury rarely sees anything other than Cabal fighting for their lives, the Vex trying to calculate how best to completely rid the warmongers from the system.

“She would have argued, made a thousand cases, and pestered me to no ends until she saw what she wanted to see.” Osiris says, softly.

“Yeah, no duh, this is Avia we’re talking about,” Sagira floats around Osiris’s head, worrying aloud. “It still doesn’t mean you should have let her!”

Osiris chuckles in response. “She reminds you of a younger Ikora, don’t you think? In her crucible days.”

“Light above does she,” Sagira replies, then whirls her shell angrily. “Hey, don’t change the subject!”

“I’m not,” Osiris cays, moving himself slightly to get a better view of the Cabal Primus that now fights for its life against a Gatelord. “Do you remember when she requested to scout the Moon?”

“Oh boy,” Sagira says. “She was so _young_. I’m pretty certain she broke, like, every rule the Vanguard even _had_ when she went off without permission.”

“Whenever she had her mind or heart set on something, she stopped at nothing to get it.”

“It’s how she found you again,” Sagira supplies. Osiris stands, placing his rifle on his back.

“Indeed. Avia is not dissimilar.”

“Yes, but,” Sagira’s angered tone returns. “Avia isn’t after knowledge. If anything I feel like she’s just torturing herself.”

“Sometimes the two aren’t so easy to distinguish between,” Osiris starts. “Avia seeks control. She wants to know every possibility, every angle, to make sure she’s not taken off guard.”

“Now I wonder who that reminds me of.” Sagira says, cheeky.

“She hasn’t figured that out yet, however. Right now, it is as you said, Sagira. She tortures herself. She won’t be able to see that a knowledge that hurts doesn’t mean it isn’t worth knowing, if you can learn from it. Hopefully, this will help her realise that.”

A golden portal shimmers by their side. The two turn their attention to it. When it opens, behind one of Osiris’s Reflections stumbles Avia, desperately clawing at her helmet, trying to get it off.

“Avia!” Sagira cries. “Are you alright?”

She doesn’t answer. When she finally gets her helmet off, the clasp releasing with a hurried _hiss_ , Osiris and Sagira take in her face. She’s paled considerably, wet tear tracks stream along her cheeks and her eyes are wide, round and unblinking.

She walks over to a pillar and throws up behind it.

Sagira slowly turns to her Guardian.

“You better hope you’re right.” She seethes.

Osiris nods at his Reflection, and it disappears along with the portal. He sighs, pulls the bandana over his face down and takes off his helmet.

When Avia finishes retching, she walks around to the side facing him and collapses, resting her back against the pillar. He walks over to her.

She senses his approach and points a finger. “Don’t – don’t apologise, or anything, okay? I – I asked for that.”

“I know,” Osiris says as he crouches down. An angry noise from Sagira prompts him to continue. “Doesn’t mean I couldn’t have warned you.”

“Light above,” Avia whines, pulling shaky hands through her hair. “How could I have let that happen?”

“But it didn’t happen,” Sagira says. “It’s a totally different timeline, Avia, it’s not him. Or you.”

“No – no, it is me.” She spits. “And it’s him. And I guess I just d-didn’t want to believe that there even was a timeline where I failed him so m-miserably.”

“That’s not how it works. Osiris, tell her!”

“Sagira,” Osiris says, waving his Ghost away. “Give us a moment, would you?”

Sagira looks between the two Guardians, her own with his pleading eyes, and Avia; her head down and breathing shallow. She hesitates, but eventually sighs in defeat, and dematerialises.

“Don’t tell me it wasn’t me,” Avia starts. “It’s a possibility, it’s still a timeline that exists, there’s still a small corner of time where I – where he –”

“But it’s just that,” Osiris interrupts her, his voice soft. “A possibility.”

Avia stares at him, her eyes pierced in angry disbelief, her mouth upturned. Tears fall gently from her eyes, and he takes a knee.

“The Vex don’t do absolutes. They create pathways and calculations, until every single one leads to the dark future they desire. Like running sand, they word to make each grain a timeline in which they succeed. What you saw was just that; a grain.”

“I don’t – I don’t care,” Avia says. “It was still real.”

“Of course it was.”

Avia’s face crosses into angry confusion, even more so as Osiris _smiles_ of all things.

“The Vex don’t understand our Light. They can’t mimic it, or recreate it. Panoptes could see it, but was powerless to use it. They can’t anticipate us.”

“I’ve had this explained to me already,” Avia whispers, not unkindly. Her brow furrows. “So I don’t understand what you’re–”

“They can guess.” Osiris says. Avia scoffs.

“Guess?”

He nods. She tilts her head scathingly, pierces him with a look.

“You’re telling me that every single ‘grain of sand’ that is a timeline is basically a guess?”

“In the simplest of terms, yes.”

She scoffs again around a laugh.

“None of this is making me feel better, if that’s what you’re going for.”

Osiris sighs deeply. “You view the simulation as if it had a high likelihood of happening. That is the part that isn’t real. It’s a guess, a small, miniscule possibility. One that we can view, but one that ultimately, did not come into being. In the end, I don’t even think Toland anticipated the resolve of Grier and his clan would stop the worst from happening. Everything that was supposed to happen, did.”

Avia’s face holds a certain amount of disbelief. “You created multiple copies of yourself in order to traverse every future timeline possible. Do you really believe that?”

“Before I met you, no.”

“Oh, wow, thank you.”

“But,” Osiris clenches his fist. “We’re paracausal beings, Avia. We make our own destinies, ones that the Vex cannot predict. After seeing how much you care for that boy? I knew there was not a likely future where you let him fall to the Darkness.”

She smiles wide at that, a warmth overtaking her chest that settles her busy mind.

“It is as Ikora told you. Pain is an excellent teacher. But you _must_ learn from this, Avia. Don’t let it consume you.”

She rests her hands on her knees, and thinks. “They’re guesses,” she says eventually, soft. “The – whatever it is, that I just saw. It’s a guess.”

“Yes. And why do we guess?”

Avia scrunches her face up. “Are you trying to teach me something?”

Osiris laughs, his chest shaking,

“Ikora did tell me it was a similar process to getting blood from a stone.”

Avia laughs in return, wiping her face on the back of one hand. “If I ask to do something like that again, please kick me off this planet forever.”

Sagira materialises. “Oh, trust me, we will.”

Avia grins, gives her face another wipe, and then stands.

“Thank you,” Avia says.

“Do you feel better? For knowing, I mean.” Sagira asks.

Avia pauses, looks away to think for a second. Once he stands, she meets Osiris’s eyes.

“We guess because if we’re wrong, we can try something else. Get a different result, the one we’re after. If our guess is wrong, hopefully the next one will be right, because we know what was wrong with the last one.” She shoots Osiris a sarcastic smile. “Hopefully we’ll _learn_ from it.”

“Uh… What?” Sagira asks.

Osiris merely pulls his bandana back over his mouth, and places his helmet back on. “If you ever want to talk. Or even, make any more guesses.”

“I know where to find you.”

“Hey, what did I miss?” Sagira says as Osiris starts to walk away, following her Guardian but turning back to Avia intermittently. “Seriously, clue me in here!”

Avia bows her head, and summons her own Ghost.

“Avia…” Levi begins. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

She smiles at them. “I will be, buddy. Thanks for asking.”

They materialise her helmet back onto her head.

“Tell me where Grier is, buddy. We need to have a chat.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> the quote at the top is from the Osiris grimoire card that came with the House of Wolves. 
> 
> if you wanna see more of these characters head over to my tumblr www.nerdy-kins.tumblr.com


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